


the true joy of sorrow of which i'm sharing alone

by pro_daydreamer



Category: The AM Archives (Podcast), The Bright Sessions (Podcast), The College Tapes (Podcast)
Genre: Alternative Ending to The College Tapes Episode 20, Angst, Coma, I like to hurt Oliver, Love Confessions, M/M, Mark cries, they go back to the AM
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-12
Updated: 2020-11-28
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:20:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27529120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pro_daydreamer/pseuds/pro_daydreamer
Summary: Spoilers for The College Tapes Episode 20“Is he ok?” Mark asks and Sam glances back at Joan nervously.“Mark, I’m sorry,” Joan says and he feels the world pause around them.“He’s fine,” Sam rushes in to clarify and Joan bites her lip apologetically. “It’s just….’“He had to be put in a medically induced coma,” Joan explains, sitting herself down beside Mark and taking his hand nervously. “We don’t know for how long though.”Mark can’t think, can’t process any of the information. He can see his sister’s lips still moving but the sound doesn’t register anymore as he sinks into the chair.Oliver is in a bad state at the end of Episode 20 so they take him back to the AM and he has to be put in a medically induced coma. This is very not fun for Mark (or Oliver).
Relationships: Adam Hayes/Caleb Michaels, Mark Bryant/Oliver Ritz
Comments: 6
Kudos: 22





	1. Part One: Mark - 'unspoken words are preferred but it's the truth'

**Author's Note:**

> work title from At Least I Have Nothing by Saint Motel  
> chapter one title from unspoken words by mxmtoon

Oliver is in a bad condition, that much is immediately clear. They’ve hurt him.  _ Bad _ . So bad that his chest is heaving irregularly as he tries to suck in a breath. Mark unties him quickly, efficiently, albeit with his hands trembling and his heart in his throat. 

“Oliver?” he asks gently and Oliver groans in response, slumping forward in his chair. 

“Mark, he looks —” Caleb starts.

“He’s going to be ok,” Mark says, trying to manoeuvre Oliver off of the chair and haul him up to lean on his shoulder. Even at the best of times, Mark isn’t the strongest. His muscles have never quite recovered from his years in the AM and as he pulls Oliver up he starts collapsing under the weight of his unconscious body. Caleb and Beck both rush forwards, catching Mark and Oliver before either of them fall to the floor.

“We need to take him to a doctor,” Beck says but Mark shakes his head.

“We can’t take him to a doctor,” Mark points out, voice jagged. “He’s atypical, they don’t know how to deal with that.”

“He’s unconscious and we don’t know how injured he is,” Sadie says as she gingerly examines some of Oliver’s injuries. Mark can feel the concern bleeding from her. He can feel it from all of them.

“No, we’re not taking him to a doctor,” Mark shakes his head, his fists still clenched in Oliver’s shirt as they all try to keep him upright. 

Caleb begins to slowly ease Oliver back down into the chair and gently push Mark’s hands away but he won’t let go. The result is inelegant, Oliver slumped in the chair and Mark awkwardly leaning over him.

Adam steps forward, wringing his hands in front of himself nervously.

“I hate to suggest it but—”

“No,” Mark cuts Adam off before he can finish the thought. “No, ok? We’re not taking him there.”

Caleb shuffles uncomfortably beside him. “Mark, he’s—”

“Caleb, you know better than anyone that I can’t take him there.”

An uneasy silence fills the room and Mark begins to register the feelings of uncertainty and fear seeping from everyone surrounding them. They swirl in the air like smoke and his lungs feel like they’re stuffed with cotton. They all want to take Oliver to the AM, Mark can feel it. Even Caitlin, Frankie, Ben and Sadie share a look, their sympathy and worry seeping all over the place. He knows they’re right but he can’t let them do it. If Oliver wakes up back in the AM—

“Mark, we have to,” Caleb starts again hesitantly. “He needs help and the AM is the only place he can really get that.”

“I—”

“Caleb’s right,” Adam carries on, his voice more clear and certain than a few moments ago. “I know that it’s really not what either of you want but it’s the only option we have.”

“I can’t let that happen to him,” Mark mumbles, sinking down so that he is knelt beside the chair that Oliver is keeled over in. “I can’t let him go back there.”

“Mark, I understand—” Adam tries and Mark can’t take it. He pushes himself up from the ground forcefully, the force of it jarring his shoulders. Adam flinches back a little and Mark feels a flare of fear from him but he can’t bring himself to care.

“No you  _ don’t _ ,” he snaps, “That place houses the  _ worst _ days of my life. The worst days of  _ his  _ life. I can’t—”

“Mark…” Caleb lays a hand on his arm and Mark feels something break deep inside of him.

He crumples back to the floor as tears begin to fall down his cheeks. Caleb kneels down beside him and drags him close into a tight hug as Mark sobs into his chest.

“I know how hard this is for you,” Caleb mutters in a low voice. “I know how much it hurts but he needs a doctor. A doctor who can actually help him.”

Looking up at Oliver, Mark knows that Caleb is right. He knows that Oliver needs more than just him right now, but all he wants to do is take him away from everything that could hurt him and keep him safe. 

“Caleb….” Mark starts and Caleb nods. Mark wants to thank Caleb for not making him finish that sentence but it feels like there is glass in his throat.

“We can take him,” Caleb says, drawing back and standing to look over at Adam and the others. “You don’t need to go back there.”

“No,” shaking his head, Mark wipes tears from his face with a corner of his sleeve. “I — I have to go with him. I can’t let him go there alone.”

The others seem to nod in understanding and Caleb moves to go and pick up Oliver.

“We should get going then,” Adam says, spurring the room into action. “He needs medical attention as quickly as possible.”

“I can drive us,” Caleb says. “Mark, Oliver and Adam can drive with me. Sadie, can you drive the others?”

“Yeah, we’re not letting you out of your sight, I’ll be right behind you.” Sadie tells him, turning to look at Ben, Frankie and Caitlin who all seem to still be frozen in a state of shock.

“Are you sure you should be driving, Caleb?” Frankie asks. “Given all of the emotions and stuff?”

“I’ll be ok,” Caleb reassures him. “Adam can help if it gets too much.”

Mark sees the two of them smile at each other and he registers that he needs to discuss that with Caleb. He tries to calm himself a little too, realising now just how much Caleb must be feeling from him. They’ve talked about this before and Mark wants to kick himself for forgetting in this moment. Caleb doesn’t need him freaking out on top of everyone else in the room.

“He’ll be ok, Mark,” Beck says from behind him.

“He has to be.” Mark turns to Beck who gives him a sympathetic smile and gestures to where Sadie and Caleb are gingerly attempting to lift Oliver from the chair.

“Take care of them,” Beck says with a grimace and Mark only notices as he turns away that his hands are shaking. Mark’s own hands are red with how tightly he’s been clenching them and he tries to flex out his fingers as he follows after the others.

It has to work out.

The drive to the AM is longer than any of them would like, silence hanging heavy over all of them. Mark keeps Oliver’s hand in his the whole time, one finger held against Oliver’s wrist to make sure his pulse is still there, persistent and steady.

When they finally get there, Mark hesitates on the doorstep as Caleb and Adam take Oliver in through the door. Caleb glances back at him before the door closes and Mark is thankful for the understanding and calm that he can feel Caleb pushing towards him. He tries to hold onto that calm, but as Caleb gets further away it slips like water through his fingers and the panic sets in again.

The AM looms over him. Too large, too closed off. The windows are too small and the walls are too high and Mark can’t breathe. He sits where he was standing, sinking down onto the concrete unceremoniously. 

Mark can feel every single bump in the ground below him. He can hear every sound of every car, see the movement behind every window. It reminds him that this time, it’s not a dream. 

He is here in real life and he has never wished more that he was in a nightmare.

He’s not sure how long he stays there but after a while he hears the door open and a familiar voice brings him back into his body.

“Mark?” Joan asks, sitting cross legged beside him on the ground. He thinks about commenting on the image of her in her professional work clothes sat on the ground like that but his voice chokes in his throat as he sees her expression.

“Joan?” he asks nervously.

“Oliver’s being looked at right now,” she says. “They’re worried about how long he’s been unconscious but he doesn’t seem to have any major injuries.”

Mark should be breathing out a sigh of relief but he doesn’t feel any better. His limbs still feel like heavy anchors, holding him in place.

“I’m scared, Joanie,” he says and Joan’s face crumples. Mark lets himself be pulled into her and they sit there on the concrete for a while. It’s uncomfortable but Mark can’t move, can’t do anything but be frozen with fear. Joan rubs his back gently and murmurs into his ear to remind him to breathe while his heart races away from him.

“You should come and sit in the waiting room,” Joan says after a long silence. “It’s cold out here and I’m sure it’s not pleasant to sit on concrete for this long.”

Mark grimaces but stands up with her.

“I don’t really want to go in there,” he says and she nods.

“I know,” she smiles. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

“I want to be there for him though.”

“You can be there for him out here too,” Joan reminds him. “He would understand why you wouldn’t want to be in there.”

“I don’t want him to wake up alone, that’s all,” Mark tells her, meeting her steady gaze with watery eyes. “I want there to be someone he recognises when he regains consciousness”

“That makes a lot of sense,” Joan says. “And if you can’t be there, I can be that person for him. I know I’m not the ideal —”

“Thanks, Joanie.”

A small smile flickers across Joan’s face.

“It’s no problem at all.”

“You’re right, it is cold out here. I’ll come inside for a little while.”

Mark wakes with a start when someone touches shoulder. He wasn’t expecting to fall asleep in the waiting room but the full force of the last few days seems to have caught up with him and left him exhausted and wrung out. Looking up, he sees Sam there, face calm but concerned. Joan is lingering behind her, fiddling anxiously with her shirt cuff.

“Is he ok?” Mark asks and Sam glances back at Joan nervously.

“Mark, I’m sorry,” Joan says and he feels the world pause around them.

“He’s fine,” Sam rushes in to clarify and Joan bites her lip apologetically. “It’s just….’

“He had to be put in a medically induced coma,” Joan explains, sitting herself down beside Mark and taking his hand nervously. “We don’t know for how long though.”

Mark can’t think, can’t process any of the information. He can see his sister’s lips still moving but the sound doesn’t register anymore as he sinks into the chair.

It feels like he’s underwater, slowly sinking through a cold ocean. Joan is so far away, Oliver is in a coma and Mark can’t breathe.

“He….no, he can’t…” Mark hears himself say.

“I’m sorry, Mark. He was just in too bad a condition,” Sam says and Mark can feel a building pressure in his chest. “The good news is he’ll likely recover almost fully.”

“When he fucking wakes up,” Mark snaps and Sam flinches a little, making Mark feel a little prick of guilt. 

The drowning feeling is growing steadily worse and Mark can feel himself falling away from reality.

“I — yes,” Joan admits. “But that will hopefully be soon. Things are looking good Mark. They’re not ideal but he’s ok.”

“Joan, he’s in a fucking coma!” Mark yells and stands up suddenly, ripping his hand from Joan’s. 

He has to get out of here, he has to be able to breathe.

“Mark—” Sam tries to say, reaching a hand out to him.

“Don’t touch me,” he spits out, jerking away from her touch.

“I’m sorry,” Sam stutters, stuffing her hands in her pockets and shuffling away from him slightly. 

“I just — I need to get out of here,” Mark says, his fingers clawing at his arms as he tries to suck in a deep breath despite the building pressure through his entire body.

“That’s ok,” Joan says, standing up and brushing down her skirt. 

Joan walks ahead and opens the door for him. “You can visit Oliver whenever you feel ready,” she tells him as he walks through the door.

“Thanks, Joanie,” Mark says hurriedly as he pushes through the door.

The cold air burns Mark’s lungs as he gasps in a breath. A whimper shudders through him and he finds himself leaning back against a wall and trying desperately not to let his knees give out yet again. 

Oliver is in a coma. 

Oliver is in a coma _ in the AM. _

The thought rattles around in his mind, eclipsing any other thought, any other worry. 

He can picture it, Oliver lying there, surrounded by machines and that  _ incessant  _ beeping. Mark’s hands clench into fists, fingernails digging painfully into his palms. 

He can’t be in a coma, there’s no way. Fate would not be so cruel as to play tricks like that.

Mark guesses he’s been through worse, what’s one more piece of suffering to add to the mix. In the end it all comes back to this, pain and loss. He doesn’t know why he even tries anymore.

What’s the point in loving anybody when things like this can happen at any time? Why  _ choose  _ this over feeling nothing at all? He’s had Oliver for barely any time at all. He hasn’t even said he loves him yet.

He hasn’t told Oliver he loves him.

The thought spurs him into action.

Mark pushes himself up from the wall, striding back into the AM. The fear is still there but it’s edged with determination now. He’s directed to Oliver’s room and he keeps pushing forward until he’s sat in a chair by Oliver’s bedside. Shaking but  _ there _ . 

His feet beg him to run but his heart anchors him here with the man in front of him.

“Hi, Oliver,” he starts, cringing a little as he hears his voice echo in the empty room. “I’m….I’m so  _ fucking _ sorry. I’m sorry that we’re back here, I’m sorry that you’re not awake to hear this.”

Mark swallows and takes Oliver’s hand in his, squeezing gently. 

“When you wake up it’s going to be scary, so fucking scary. I know that, I’ve been there. I’m gonna be here for you though, I’ll help you through it.”

He hesitates for a second, unsure of whether to push on, but he grits his teeth and continues.

“I wish I’d told you before that I love you,” he admits, looking down at Oliver’s unconscious face. “Now you can’t hear it and I don’t know when I’ll ever be able to tell you. I just – I was too afraid to ever voice it out loud, because I thought that maybe I was making it all up. I thought maybe that wasn’t what we were to each other but now I’ve almost lost you and —”

Mark can hear his voice rising and he pauses for a minute, trying to calm himself so that he won’t disturb anyone nearby.

_ “Fuck, Oliver. _ I love you, I  _ have loved  _ you and I can’t believe I wasn’t loving you out loud this whole time.”

There’s tears running down his face now but Mark doesn’t care. There is no audience here to see this and not even Oliver is conscious to tease him for it.

“Please wake up. I need you here, I can’t lose you. I need you to be there beside me and make bad jokes and take me to get waffles,” Mark is slightly laughing now, hysterical as he bares his soul to an unconscious man.

“We’re not done yet, we’re only just beginning. So you better hurry up and open your eyes because I’m out here waiting for you. When you’re ready, I’m here and I’m waiting.”


	2. Part 2: Oliver- ‘please don't ever leave me here alone in the dark’

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oliver wakes to find himself in the AM, not knowing what happened to him and having no idea where Mark is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter title is from Tired by NIve

Bright.

That’s all Oliver can register when he first wakes up. Bright white light stinging his eyes. The glare remains present behind his eyelids even as he slowly blinks to adjust his vision. 

Slowly the details of the room come into focus, he feels the mattress beneath him and the cotton sheets against his skin. Oliver doesn’t remember going to sleep and he tries to move to sit up and look around when pain floods every inch of his body. He notices the anaesthetics then, the foreign chemicals in his bloodstream and he tries to push the pain out, tries to be able to sit up so he can look around the room.

The room which looks  _ awfully _ like a hospital.

Oliver registers the machines beeping, monitoring his heart rate. It infiltrates his brain and fills it with an awful high pitch rhythm, never-ending and insistent. He wonders maybe if he can make it stop, mess up the wiring inside of it by transforming the metal in the wires to something else. He tries to reach out with his ability, pushing himself up on his elbows and clenching his eyes shut but the beeping continues, incessant and maddening. Trying to focus yields nothing when his head is full of light and pain and he clenches his fists in frustration, gripping the sheets tightly before forcibly relaxing his fingers and collapsing back down into the bed.

He doesn’t know where he is. The room looks like a hospital, sure, but he knows that atypicals can’t go to regular hospitals. Ordinary doctors don’t know what to do with them and normal treatments don’t work the same when you have an ability. He and Mark talked about this before when—

The AM, he realises. He must be in the AM. 

There’s nowhere else he could be. No one else would be able to treat him properly if he needed hospitalising. He doesn’t want it to be true but what other option is there?

The sedative coursing through his veins does nothing to help the punch of fear in his gut. He can’t be back here, not again. When you escape from somewhere like the AM, that’s supposed to be it. You’re not supposed to end up right back where you started. That’s not how the story should go. He shouldn’t be back here, hooked up to machines in a blank room. He stares at the white walls and all he can see are echoes of a cage he was kept in for years. It makes his chest tight and he becomes aware of every single point of contact over his body, too conscious of the fabric on his skin, the tubes and wires that are connected to his arms. 

It’s like a fist is wrapped around his heart and is slowly tightening its grip. Oliver becomes aware of the increase in his pulse as the monitor begins to beep faster. 

Everything in him needs to get out, needs to find somewhere else to run to —

Mark. He needs to find Mark. He would never have let Oliver be taken here without him. Surely not. 

Oliver desperately tries to lift himself off the bed, hearing the machine monitoring his heart beeping steadily faster and faster. Is it getting louder? He can barely tell above the roaring in his ears.

He’s connected to so many cords, so many wires and tubes. Trying to pull away from them sends stings of pain across his arms but he doesn’t care anymore. 

_ Where the fuck is Mark? _

Oliver is scrambling now, trying to push himself off the bed anyway he can, trying to get out of here. He can’t stay in this place, not again. As soon as he finds Mark they’re running away from here for the final time and never looking back.

He’s managed to get himself off of the bed when the door bangs open and a nurse hurries in followed by a familiar face. 

Mark’s sister. Joan.

She halts in her tracks when she sees him crumpled on the floor, shock washing over her face.

“Oliver, you’re awake,” Joan gasps and he tries to push himself up from the floor to face her.

“No, don’t,” Joan tells him as her and the nurse rush forward to help pull him up into a sitting position. “You really should still be in bed you know.”

“What am I doing here?” he asks her. “I don’t remember what happened.”

“Let’s get you back into bed first,” the nurse says and Oliver flinches as she tries to pull him up to a standing position.

“I don’t want to stay in that fucking bed,” he says, trying desperately to pull away from her tight grip on his arm. Joan gestures for her to leave them alone for a while and takes a pillow from the bed, placing it under Oliver’s head and easing him back down onto the floor.

“We can stay down here for now if you’d like,” she says calmly. Oliver takes a shaky breath as she watches him.

“What happened to me?”

“You were very badly injured, Oliver. Caleb and Mark brought you here for us to help you and you had to be put in a medically induced coma for a little while.”

Oliver stares at her. 

“How long have I been out?” he asks nervously, scared of what the answer might be. If it’s been months would Mark still be waiting for him? Oliver doesn’t know how long he’s worth waiting for but he’s sure that anyone would give up after a long enough time.

“About two weeks,” Joan says and Oliver feels the grip around his heart loosen an inch. Not as long as he’d feared but still, too long.

“Where’s Mark?” he asks and the look on Joan’s face tells him she’s been expecting this question.

“He went home to sleep a few hours ago but he’ll be back anytime soon. I promise.”

It takes a few seconds for Oliver to properly register what she’s said.

“Mark was here with me?” he asks and Joan smiles a little.

“He’s been here every day. My brother seems to be rather worried about you,” her tone is light but her voice trembles a little with restrained emotion. 

“He’s been here every day?” Oliver repeats quietly.

“He sits by your bed and talks to you quite a bit,” Joan explains. “Don’t tell him I told you that,” she adds after a second.

“Why would he do that?”

“For whatever reason, he seems to be fond of you.” Joan reaches out and squeezes Oliver’s hand lightly. “He was waiting for the day you would wake up.”

“But he hates it here. The AM is one of the worst places for him to be.”

“Well then clearly you’re worth something to him,” Joan says. “So I would appreciate it if you would get back into bed and let yourself be taken care of. For my brother’s peace of mind and my own.”

Oliver can’t find the words to respond, still struck to the core by the thought of Mark waiting at his bedside every day. 

Mark was waiting for him. For some reason, Mark waited and it makes Oliver’s entire body buzz despite the growing pain deep in his bones.

Joan calls the nurse back in to help put Oliver back into bed and Oliver forces himself to obediently lie still and let himself be hooked back up to the machines. He’s not in a good enough state to fight back anyway but if Joan is right then he the best thing he can do is stay here and wait.

After not too long, he begins to feel the heavy weight of exhaustion pressing down on him and he wonders why that is. Surely being in a coma for two weeks would leave him well-rested. It’s a fight to stay awake. He doesn’t want to leave himself exposed and vulnerable in this place again but his eyes are drifting closed even as he tries to blink the sleep away and it begins to go dark as he slips back into sleep.

The next time Oliver wakes, it’s far more violent. He hadn’t meant to fall asleep and he worries just how long they’ve kept him here since he last woke up, if it’s been another two weeks.

He almost hits himself on the side of the bed in his struggle, caught only by another hand tangled in his, holding him in place.

“Hey, I’m here, you’re ok.”

Oliver’s vision clears slowly and he can make out Mark sat there beside him, concerned but smiling. The relief hits him in the chest and he feels a weight lifted from him just seeing Mark there, whole and happy.

“Mark,” Oliver says, curling his fingers around Mark’s hand in his.

“Hey Oliver,” Mark grins and shuffles forward in his seat to lean on the edge of the bed.

“Are you ok?” Oliver asks him and Mark narrows his eyes in confusion.

“What? Yeah, of course, I’m ok. You’re the one in a hospital bed,” Mark points out.

“They didn’t do anything to you though?” 

Mark’s expression clears at Oliver’s question. He shakes his head a little and glances towards the door almost reflexively.

“I’m fine, I promise,” Mark says softly and Oliver laces their fingers together.

“Good. That’s good.”

They look at each other for a while, taking in the sight. Mark, here and safe by his side. Oliver, awake and alert for the first time in weeks. For a while, that’s all they can do. Mark breaks the silence first.

“How are you feeling?” 

“Tired, painful,” Oliver says with a frown and Mark winces sympathetically.

“That sounds about right,” Mark says and Oliver feels a stab of guilt for the memories Mark must be reliving right now. “Moving around is a bit difficult too, right?”

“Did Joan tell you she found me on the floor?”

“Yeah she did,” Mark chuckles.“Said you were trying to escape.”

“Yeah, well—”

“I get it,” Mark cuts in. “I wasn’t really expecting anything different. I mean, I was. I was hoping that I would be here when you woke up for the first time but unfortunately, that wasn’t the case.”

“I was trying to find you,” Oliver explains and Mark stares at him.

“You were?” he asks, half under his breath. He seems nervous.

“I was scared,” Oliver admits. “I didn’t what had happened to you. I didn’t know what happened to  _ me _ . I’m still not clear on that by the way.”

“That’s maybe for another time,” Mark admits, letting out a sigh and dropping his head. 

“It was bad, wasn’t it?”

“You could have died, Oliver. I was terrified.” Mark’s voice is choked and when he lifts his head again, Oliver can see that his eyes are shining with tears. Oliver grips his hand tightly and Mark steadies himself with a breath.

“I’d promise not to get kidnapped again but—”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” Mark says with a shaky laugh.

“Exactly,” Oliver replies with a smile and they fall into an easy silence again.

Mark isn’t looking at him anymore. His gaze is trained on the floor and while his hand is still in Oliver’s, his grip has loosened and he’s leaned away from the bed. Oliver worries that he’s already said too much.

“Joan said you’ve been here every day,” Oliver says, covering the worry in his voice with a false cheeriness.

“Yeah,” Mark murmurs, not looking up. 

“Didn’t you have anything better to do?” He asks, which makes Mark glance up at him.

“Oliver, I—”

“I’m just wondering why you’d want to waste your days sitting in this room with me,” Oliver points out. “Especially  _ this  _ room.”

“I was scared,” Mark bursts out, slipping his hand out of Oliver’s to cover his face. “And I …. care a lot about you.”

His voice is muffled behind his hands but Oliver still hears the weight of those words, feels them settle in his chest. Those words are owed a careful response, something worth an equal weight to what Mark has just given him but he can only think of one thing.

“Why?” 

“What do you mean?” 

“Why do you care about  _ me _ ?” Oliver asks and Mark sits back in his chair and just looks at him, assessing whether the question is serious. When it’s clear that Oliver isn’t joking for once, Mark takes Oliver’s hand back into his.

“I just do, Oliver,” he says simply. “There’s no reasoning behind it. I like you as a person, I enjoy your company, you’re important to me.”

Mark looks like he’s on the edge of saying more, his lip chewed between his teeth and his breathing still shaky. It takes a moment for him to look at Oliver again and when he does, there is a fearful hope in his eyes.

“Look, Oliver, while you were asleep I said some things, had some realisations.”

“What are you talking about Byron?”

“I’m talking about the fact that I love you.”

Oliver can barely breathe for a minute, can barely think of anything. Mark waits patiently, watching as Oliver pulls himself back together and tries to somehow form a coherent sentence when the only thing running through his mind is the fact that Mark loves him.

“You….love me?” Oliver manages to say finally. 

“Yes, I love you,” Mark tells him, his voice still shaky but reassuring. “And so I care. I cared and I waited because the man I loved was in a coma and I was scared that I’d never get to say those words to him.”

“You love me,” Oliver repeats.

“Yeah.”

“I don’t understand. How?”

“What?” Mark asks, face growing concerned.

“You love me despite everything I’ve done?”

“Yeah,” Mark says. He lifts his free hand to Oliver’s cheek. “You’re crying.”

Oliver feels the tears then, cold on his face.

“I didn’t think I’d ever be enough for you,” he admits and Mark’s face crumbles. “I thought I would never do enough good for me to deserve you but you’re saying you love me anyway?”

“My love isn’t conditional, Oliver.”

Oliver is really crying now, his cheeks streaked with tears and the taste of salt in his mouth. Without saying a word, Mark climbs up onto the bed and wraps his arms around Oliver, pulling him in as close as he can. He cries into Mark’s shirt, letting himself be held tightly. Slowly, his tears begin to dry and he finds his voice again.

“I love you too, you know,” he says, though his voice is raw from crying.

“Really?”

“Really,” he smiles, wrapping his arms around Mark as they settle beside each other somewhat uncomfortably on the narrow bed. “I never thought you’d feel the same way about me.”

“Well, here we are,” Mark says, looking over at him and meeting his gaze.

Oliver leans his head on Mark’s shoulder, relishing his warmth.

“What does this mean?” Oliver asks.

“I don’t know,” Mark admits, “but I’m looking forward to figuring it out with you.”

“Can you stay here? Like this?” 

“Of course.” Mark takes Oliver’s hand once again. “I’m not going to leave you. I promise.”

Oliver hesitates, knowing what he wants to ask but too afraid to voice it. Mark seems oblivious, burying his face in Oliver’s hair.

“Could I kiss you?” he blurts out eventually. Mark stiffens and Oliver is afraid that he’s done this wrong, misinterpreted something somewhere, but Mark doesn’t pull away, only turns Oliver’s face towards his.

“I thought you’d never ask,” he says and Oliver feels his heart begin to race yet again, painfully aware that Mark can hear the steadily increasing beeps from the monitor.

Mark doesn’t seem to care though, just brings his mouth gently to Oliver’s and kisses him once. It’s nothing huge, nothing monumental, but Oliver feels something slot into place in his heart, like a puzzle finally fitting together. It makes sense and he tries to memorise the feeling of Mark’s lips against his, tries to capture this feeling in his mind forever.

“You love me,” Oliver whispers when they break apart.

“I do.”

“I love you too.”

“Yeah.”

“I really hope this isn’t a dream,” Oliver says, dropping his head back on to Mark’s shoulder.

“Me too,” Mark mutters. “But this feels real. It feels right.”

“Yeah.”


End file.
